


I will pick you up

by dragon_rider



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Angst, Bruises, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Prompt Fill, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake wasn't going to let Adam deal with whatever this was alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will pick you up

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on my [blog](http://illshutyoudowncowboy.tumblr.com/post/86141234959/fic-where-adam-shows-up-with-bruises-and-blake-makes), "fic where adam shows up with bruises and blake makes adam tell him who hurt him."
> 
> I'm treating real people as characters here. Please keep that in mind and don't think for even a second anything in this story is anywhere near the truth and that this could be triggering.

Blake bit his lip and strained to hear any noises that could mean Adam was still awake.

He was staying at his place for the night after pretending to be drunker than he actually was and making Adam haul his much bigger frame all the way to a guest room (“ _You could at least drag your own ass to bed, you shitfaced country asshole, you’re heavy!_ ”) to make sure he’d be tired when he went to sleep.

It was… yeah, alright, not exactly the proper way to approach what was going on but damn it, Blake was worried, and Adam was so tight-lipped lately this was his best shot at finding out more about what was making the rock star so jumpy and tense whenever Blake touched him.

 _I fell off my bike, alright? I was going too fast, I was dumb, won’t happen again_ , he’d said and everyone had chided him for about an hour straight while Adam simply nodded and looked so meek and resigned it made Blake frown.

He’d gone from hurt and dejected to downright alarmed and worried once he’d caught a glimpse of a few nasty and big bruises on Adam’s back. Then he’d seen the same thing across his flat, perfect belly and did a double take remembering Adam’s laid-back explanation for the discolorations that marked both of his arms as well.

Sure, he liked playing dumb but that didn’t mean he was actually stupid. He could put two and two together.

Unless Adam rolled and bounced across the road or something, the fact he had bruises both on his front and back didn’t make one lick of sense to Blake.

He knew something was wrong and tried to get to the bottom of it in the right way; asking, being diligent in showing Adam he was right there for him if he needed him but the younger man had done pretty much everything short of running out screaming to avoid answering his questions or acknowledging his genuine concern for him.

Adam’s house was as silent as the grave.

It was now or never, Blake told himself.

He crept to the master bedroom and miraculously didn’t trip on anything.

***

Bones grumbled halfheartedly at him before padding out of the bedroom. Blake heaved a sigh of relief and closed the door behind him, hushing the voice in his head—his conscience that was making an appearance for once instead of all the previous times he’d found himself ogling Adam and wasn’t that hilarious? He wasn’t sneaking into Adam’s room in the middle of the night to do anything indecent, he was just worried sick and had run out of options.

It took a couple of minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark—and thankfully, some light from outside made it in so he wasn’t there standing like a creepy giant in total darkness not being able to see a thing—but when he was finally able to see Adam well, he sucked in a breath and almost ratted himself out with the noise he made.

Adam was sleeping soundly on his stomach, the sheets tangled around him just this shy of slipping off his ass and there was a very obvious and very purple bruise perfectly shaped as a big shoe in the middle of his back.

Blake stormed out of the room, furious at Adam for lying to him and furious at himself for wanting to go all cliché country guy with a shotgun on whoever the dickhead who’d done that to Adam was but lacking the necessary information to do so.

_Fell off my bike, my ass._

***

He paced around the kitchen until dawn, driving himself crazy with questions he couldn’t answer.

Was Adam being abused? But by who? Blake knew all of Adam’s friends and they were good people, how could they—but then again, that was what they said about abusive people, right? That they seemed nice, acted normal. Oh God.

Maybe Adam had been assaulted and didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to make it real just yet? That made more sense. But what kind of assault had he gone through if that was the case? Just a beating or was there a deeper reason for Adam to hide what had happened to him?

Just the idea made him sink on a chair and hang his head on his hands.

 _Not Adam,_ he thought, desperate, _not him, please, God, no._

It might as well had been a week until he heard Adam’s soft footsteps on the stairs and then on the floor, coming right to meet him where he was still feeling so unbelievably helpless he could barely move.

He wanted to know who’d hurt Adam.

He wanted to know so they’d never lay a finger on him again.

“Here you are,” Adam told him as greeting, handing him a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water. He was wearing a loose t-shirt and baggy sweatpants and looked so goddamn tiny and delicate Blake just wanted to put his arms around him and never let him go, “Wow, you look like crap. Drink up, cowboy. It’ll make you feel better.”

Blake took the pill and emptied the glass quickly.

He knew the one thing that could make him feel better.

“What about you, buddy?” he asked, voice raspy and deep with weariness, “What is gonna make you feel better? Lying to your friends, to me? Is that it?”  
“You’re like a dog with a bone, I swear to God,” Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and did his best to look cool, Blake could tell, but the tension on his shoulders and around his lips gave him away, “I told you, I fell off—“  
“There’s a footprint on your back, Adam, for crying out loud! I _know_ that’s bullshit.”

It was like the world had stopped for a minute or two—Adam stared at him with such disbelief Blake almost fidgeted and definitely confirmed that he trespassed, that he went too far to learn the truth about this.

But he bit his lip, refused to apologize for something he did for the right reasons even if it was the wrong thing to do.

He brushed the bruises on Adam’s arm briefly and gently, knuckles sweeping on his barely stubbly cheek before dropping his hand to his side.

“Who did that to you?” he asked, pleading, “Adam, please, I need to know.”  
“Why?” Adam spit out, finally getting over his shock, glaring at him with too much wetness in his eyes for Blake to believe anger was the main thing he was feeling at the moment, “What is it to you? It’s none of your business! Let it go, Blake, I can handle it on my own, and it’d be awesome if you stopped snooping like it’s your fucking job because it’s not.”

He’d heard it right there, the slight break in Adam’s breath when he touched his face, so he stood up and took the remaining step to him, cupping Adam’s head in both of his hands, his thumbs brushing dry eyelashes tenderly as he replied.

“Why? Because you’re important to me, Adam,” he said in case his favorite rock star could still miss the memo every single one of his actions were screaming to him, accent thick with emotions they were both trying to bottle up, “You’re important, alright? You are. And if you’re not gonna defend yourself then yeah, I want the job. I will do it for you.”

Adam shook his head, hands pushing him with just enough force to make him understand he needed space.

Blake gave it to him, fingers curling in a fist, more than ready to beg if he had to.

That Adam could handle it on his own didn’t mean that he had to, damn it.

“Adam—“

The front man cut him taking his t-shirt off with one swift, snappy motion.

There were more bruises on his chest that Blake hadn’t seen before, all of them big enough to make it impossible for Adam to move without remembering they were there.

“Well?” he prompted, chin tilted to the side in anger and something else—something that was probably shame or worse. Jesus, that broke his heart, “Do you still think is worth it to get involved in this mess?”  
“’Course I do. Wouldn’t you do the same if it was me?” Blake frowned, heart beating like a hammer as his fingers hovered over Adam’s ribs, “Can I?”  
Adam gaped at him and attempted to lighten the mood without succeeding much. “Who could do this to you, really, King Kong?”  
“Adam.”  
“Yeah,” Adam nodded, tipping his head up to look at him, hazel eyes wide and open, “Yeah, you can.”

Blake had fallen off horses enough times in his life to know how broken ribs felt like. He still kept a close eye on Adam’s breathing, making sure they weren’t cracked either, and was relieved they were just covered in awful bruises.

His fingertips lingered on Adam’s skin, so soft and warm and appealing it took everything in him not to keep exploring, not to draw the name inked there with reverent and loving touches.

The way Adam’s breath hitched, eyelids almost fluttering when Blake’s fingers dabbed certain points on his torso—that made it Hell of a lot harder.

But he managed.

“Blake—“  
“I’ll—huh—I’ll go buy some stuff for your bruises, to help with the—with the soreness. Be right back,” Blake stuttered, leaving Adam standing barefooted and confused in the middle of his kitchen.

He took a cab to the closest drug store and bought pain relieving ointment and painkillers and pretended he didn’t need the respite to clear his head.

Adam needed stability.

He didn’t need these feelings Blake had been keeping to himself for so long it was hard to stop them from pouring out.

***

He found Adam lying on his bed, bare chest glinting with the remnants of the cream he’d brought for him.

He’d given him his purchase a while ago and retreated to the guest room he was supposed to sleep in.

He’d asked his question already. He wanted to give him time to answer.

Blake liked thinking there was enough trust between them for the younger man to open up and tell him what happened to him.

“Hey,” Adam smiled slightly, looking a lot more relaxed than how he’d seen him just a couple of hours ago, “You’re still here.”  
“Afraid you’re gonna have to kick me out if that’s what you want, rock star,” he drawled, “How are you feeling?”  
“Better. I—huh,” Adam straightened up and ducked his head, looking at him through his lashes before adding, “Can you help me with my back?”

Knowing Adam was lithe enough to reach his back on his own made the question all the more pleasing.

It meant Adam wanted his hands on him as much as Blake wanted to touch him.

And wasn’t that heartening.

“Sure,” he agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the spot beside him, “C’mere.”

Adam did, hunching his shoulders slightly to give Blake better access to the area that needed the ointment.

He snatched the tube from the nightstand and applied a generous amount on the bruise that had tipped him off about Adam’s lies. He did it quietly, letting the silence around them charge with his worry and Adam’s reluctance to talk about the matter.

He dragged the moment out as long as he could, breath catching in his throat every time Adam’s back arched towards him and he let a little pleased sound out of his mouth as Blake kept on rubbing gently.

 _This is about him_ , he thought, reminded himself constantly, _not about me or us or anything but him._

_He’s all that matters._

“My dad stopped by a few days ago,” Adam whispered as he curled in on himself, voice small in so many ways it hurt to hear it, “It’s been over ten years since the last time he—I don’t know, I thought we were over it, I really did. It was my fault.”

Blake’s fingers faltered, heartbeat picking up a frantic rhythm as he caught every implied meaning of what Adam had just confessed.

He swallowed hard and threw caution to the wind, scooping Adam up until he had him on his lap and his face was pressed against his neck and Blake could tuck his chin on his soft, ruffled hair that for once had no product in it.

Adam was laying himself bare for him.

The least he could do was showing him he was all that mattered.

“No, it wasn’t,” he amended firmly, “It was never your fault, Adam, I promise you.”

Adam made a wet noise in the back of his throat and burrowed closer into him.

Blake was mad glad he didn’t contradict him.

***

Hours passed.

Blake held Adam for a long while. He didn’t kiss him, didn’t even look at the man between his arms, he just made sure Adam would know he was there for him.

Eventually, Adam stirred. He craned his neck and pecked his cheek with slightly chapped but warm lips.

Blake didn’t have much time to react to those same lips overlapping briefly with his own, softly catching his bottom lip between them before letting go and remain parted as Adam looked up at him, expectant and just a bit confident, giving him a glimpse of the Adam he knew and loved.

“Stay,” Adam half asked, half demanded, hand carding through Blake’s hair even as he went back to the place where he fit the most, right beneath his chin.

Blake smiled, still mindful of every blemish that could cause Adam ache if he touched him there, and held him snugly to his chest.

He’d have a long, serious conversation with Adam’s father soon.

But in that moment, he was right where he had to be.

“As long as you’ll have me, darlin’,” he said, gently rocking them back and forth, “As long as you’ll have me.”


End file.
